


Out of the Cold

by fincherly, susies_fandom_wonders



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Connor is gonna have some, Difficulties., Hank Has Feels, Hurt/Comfort, I mean, M/M, SO, and hank doesnt have an extra, and they both refuse to let the other sleeb on couch, and they sleeb on the same bed bc connor has found that he likes cuddles, i'm debating whether or not to make it a legit like... shipping thing, maybe ongoing thing? I got nothin better to do lmao, nothing particularly romantic happens ghfhg, okay i MIGHT make it shipping but i am Fearful of being Yelled At, that's for sure
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-26
Updated: 2018-07-16
Packaged: 2019-05-29 02:13:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15062801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fincherly/pseuds/fincherly, https://archiveofourown.org/users/susies_fandom_wonders/pseuds/susies_fandom_wonders
Summary: Connor, after the events of the passive rally led by Markus, loses the sense of purpose that held his head high. His mind is whirling, thoughts and emotions coming and going, but one thing was certain: he needed to find Hank.He didn't want to be alone.





	1. Objective: Find 'home'

**Author's Note:**

> yeah yeah yeah yeah

Hank had stood out there in the cold, the Chicken Feed sign behind him unlit, _terrified_ that Connor didn’t make it out of the scuffle. He knew the android was resilient, but if his companion didn’t come back…

Then Sumo would have no one to take care of him.

The relief that flooded him when he’d seen that assholish, arrogant android approach him was easily the most intense emotion he’d felt in a long time. Hank felt a smile on his face, immensely proud of the man standing not fifteen feet from him.

Then… Connor had smiled back. It wasn’t even, but crooked. One side of his mouth quirked up, and his eyes had crinkled around the edges like humans’ did when they had a real reason to smile. Hank saw the telltale glisten of Connor’s amber eyes, the twitching of his lips, and walked over to the kid. Connor had opened his mouth to say something, saline tears threatening to spill down his cheeks, but Hank just grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him in for what was probably the first hug he’s had in his life. He couldn’t see it, but he knew the poor soul’s LED was red, shock and confusion and relief boiling inside of him, and his heart gave a lurch when Connor’s uncertain hands gripped at his coat.

“You did it, Connor.” Hank’s voice was a croak, tears of his own dripping into his beard. “You’re the reason we backed down, and you made it out alive to boot.” Connor didn’t respond, save for a sudden, broken sob. His body began shuddering, and he clutched Hank with an iron grip. Hank knew the poor kid had been through hell and back, and whatever brave front he’d had when he’d led the thousands of androids to the plaza dissolved in the face of a debilitating wave of emotion he didn’t know how to deal with.

They stayed like that for a while.

“...H-Hank,” Connor began, his voice husky and raw, “Hank, Cyberlife is on lockdown. I… I usually go back after investigations, and I… I…”

He didn’t have a place to go. Hank buried his face into his shoulder. “You can stay with me.”

Connor pulled back, and Hank saw the LED still blinking red. “Lieutenant I… I cannot ask you to--”

“If you think I’m gonna abandon you now, I’ll have to file some paperwork on an android who can’t think straight. No way in hell I’m leavin’ you alone, Connor. You’re comin’ to my place, and I don’t wanna hear a peep of apology, alright?” Hank pulled away, then waved him over, turning to the street. He caught a glimpse of the red LED flashing yellow before Connor fell into step beside him.

Connor was quiet on the walk home. His eyes betrayed a sense of muted shock -- Hank doesn’t blame him. Hank knew him enough to guess what was on his mind on the short walk back, but he didn’t pry. Connor needed rest above all else.

 

When they arrived at Hank’s home, both covered in snow, Connor’s LED blinked yellow. Hank sighed. “The place is a mess once you realize you gotta sleep in it, I know.”

Sumo trotted down from the hallway, greeting Hank with licks to his hand. “Hey, Sumo. Connor’s gonna stay with us.” Sumo’s tail began wagging, and he made his way to the android.

After giving Sumo an awkward little pat, Connor turned to him, LED flickering blue. “If you’d like, I could--”

“What? Clean?” Hank snorted. “Nah. You need to get some sleep, or… whatever you do. You get some sorta ‘rest mode’, right?”

“We have a stasis mode, yes. It allows memories to upload to--”

“Connor. You can just say ‘yes’. I can’t be bothered with the details right now.” Connor’s LED flickered red, then yellow, then blue. Hank let out a heavy breath. “You can sleep in the bed, right?”

Connor hesitated, opening his mouth once, twice, seeming to search for words in his muddled mind. “I-I can go into stasis mode in any sort of position that allows me to balance. The bed, o-or a chair, or I could simply stand--”

“Ugh.” Hank waved a hand. “I’m not gonna have you lookin’ like some zombie in the corner of a room. You can take the bed. I’ll take the couch.”

Connor’s LED flickered red, then yellow. “I can’t let you do that for me. This is your home.”

Hank hesitated. “You’d rather I sleep with you?”

Connor paused, LED blinking between colors fast enough for Hank to miss the pattern. “...Yes. I assure you it would be no less comfortable to me.”

Hank’s eyebrow quirked, an emotion rising in his chest he didn’t need to face right now. “Alright. I’ll see if I can get you some old clothes."

“I’m content to stay in th--”

“I don’t want you sleeping in…” Hank cut himself off. Connor would only say he didn’t mind sleeping in a mess. He’ll learn. Hank grunted, then changed his approach. “I don’t want you getting Thilium all over my sheets.”

“Thirium.”

“Whatever. Come on, prick.” Hank used to say that with a bite, but the little insult was laced with affection. “Let’s get you settled. It’s been a long night.”

Connor’s LED flashed from yellow to blue. “Yeah. Coming.”

Hank ruffled Sumo’s ears, the dog giving him a little ‘boof’ in acknowledgement. He heard Connor fall into step behind him when he turned to go down the corridor.

He knew he had some spare clothes that were way too small for him, and thusly would fit Connor enough for the night. He’d have to go out and get some new clothes for the guy; he felt queasy with the thought of Connor keeping his Cyberlife uniform on after becoming a deviant. It seemed like something Connor would do to keep it. The man was nothing if not stubborn, and if he didn’t take his jacket off when the humans tried to kill him because he wanted freedom -- the jacket that symbolized his enslavement -- he wouldn’t have any problem with keeping it on now.

Hank felt sick -- Connor was a slave. The android had seemed to be only that when Hank had first met him: an android. A robot. A piece of plastic who can say words and analyze stuff. During that investigation, Hank remembered looking at him like he was a calculator, a thing used to reach conclusions the humans weren’t perceptive enough to get. And that’s what he thought he was. Connor was cold. Untouchable.

Obedient.

Seeing him stand in the doorway, hands twitching, LED still flashing -- more than he’d ever seen the damn thing flash -- Connor looked… frightened. A sort of nervousness showed on his blank expression. Hank had watched the change go by; had seen the light of life crawl into Connor’s eyes, had seen doubt start to eat away at him. Before, when Reed gave him shit, he didn’t seem bothered. He seemed like he _believed_ him. He was programmed to think of himself as an object, so being treated like one wasn’t a problem or any sort of inconvenience. The sky doesn’t fight back when you tell it it’s blue.

He’d seen the gradual change in the way Connor handled those situations. He didn’t fight back much, no, but Hank could see the hurt on his face. Hurt feelings, when he wasn’t meant to have any. And the thing that hurt him most, the thing that ate at him, was that even though Connor no doubt knew he was feeling emotion, adamantly refused any implication that he was deviant. Hank saw the turmoil in his eyes: doubt, fear, confusion. All because humans were fucked up enough to give him his very own self-brainwashing component so he wouldn’t _want_ to be deviant. He could chock it up to Connor not wanting to die, and not wanting to let the secret slip, but Hank saw the existential confusion and fear in those warm, disgustingly innocent eyes and he knew that Connor’s mind was tearing itself apart. He knew that part of him wished he were alive, and part of him wished he were just a machine, and that pain and hurt and doubt would be out of his reach.

In the span of a week, Connor’s purpose was shattered, and was left with nothing.

Hank looked up. “Come on, get over here. I think I’ve got some clothes for you. You can change in the bathroom, then come right back. No wandering.” He put the clothes in Connor’s grasp once he was within arm’s length.

“I can’t undress here?” _God_ , he wished Connor’s head didn’t tilt like that. He knew Connor’s knowledge of daily life was incredibly limited seeing as how he’d only ever been used to analyze crime scenes, but he was still jarred by the sheer _innocence_ of him.

“Nah, kid. There’s a thing called decency, alright? If you’re gonna live a normal life, you’re gonna have to come to terms that you can’t strip wherever you want.” Hank shook his head, muttering _fucking android_ under his breath, as he was wont to do.

Connor’s LED flickered yellow, then red, then blue, then he nodded. “Understood.”

When he left, Hank had nothing more to do than get changed into some night clothes (as quickly as he could manage) and sit on the bed.

Kid’s LED was wiggin’ out. He could guess that this whole ordeal has left a lot of stress in him that’s wiggling around, trying to settle. He’d leave it alone for now.

The door of the bathroom opened again, and -- aw, _fuck_ . Did the clothes really have to be that loose on him? Hank felt a faint blush on his cheeks; Connor was so fucking _cute_ when he wore clothes, Hank’s clothes, that were too big for him. He was tall, sure, but he was skinny as a twig, and the worn sweatshirt he’d given him sagged over one shoulder to reveal flawless skin, delicate spatterings of freckles marking the synthetic flesh.

“...Can we sleep now?” Connor’s voice carried a different weight, and as Hank looked up at him, he saw fatigue in those doe eyes.

Hank nodded slowly. He patted the right side of the bed. “Here. Have this side.”

Connor nodded, and Hank saw a faint blue tinge in his cheeks. Was he blushing…? Why did androids need to blush? Ah, fuck it. He needed sleep. He made a show of settling himself in, flopping the blankets and moving the pillow, trying to tell Connor that the bed wasn’t a sacred place and he didn’t need to analyse it to figure out the best way he can get in.

It seemed to work. Connor’s weight dipped the mattress, then settled when the android stretched out next to him. Hank’s jaw tightened.

“...Hey, Connor.”

“Yes, Lieutenant?”

“First of all, call me Hank. We’re not at work I can be Hank, and you can be Connor. No titles. Alright?” Hank heard Connor nod, the light rustle of his hair against the pillow loud in the silence. “Second of all… You can…” Hank grunted, turning towards him. “You can wake up from stasis at any time, right?” Connor blinked, owlish.

“No, I cannot. It would be dangerous to my memory if uploading was interrupted. While I can hypothetically be roused by external stimuli --"

“English.”

“...If I were to awaken from stasis before memory uploading is complete, it could be damaged. You can wake me up if you absolutely need to.” Hank nodded.

“And you guys don’t have nightmares, right?” Connor’s long lashes fluttered.

“No. We do not experience REM sleep of any sort.” Hank sighed again. At least he knew Connor wouldn’t have a bad dream and leave Hank unable to help.

“Good enough for me. ‘Night, Connor.”

Silence followed.

“...Already shut down?” No, the LED was yellow.

“...Hank, could I… Could you…” Connor turned to face him again. Hank quirked an eyebrow.

“Spit it out, kid.”

Connor swallowed. “I… I’ve seen humans in emotional distress finding solace in other humans who offered physical comfort.” Hank’s heart fluttered.

“...You want me to hold you?” Connor’s LED began blinking red, and Hank could hear the almost imperceptible whirring of fans.

“It’s alright if you don’t--”

The rest of Connor’s sentence was forgotten when Hank’s hand rested on his hip. “Turn over, will ya?” Connor took a moment to stare at the lieutenant before he nodded shakily, turning onto his left side, facing away from Hank.

“H-Hank, I apologize if--”

Of course he thought Hank only wanted Connor to ignore him, huh? Hank grit his teeth, keeping the fluttering of emotions at bay, and pulled Connor until his back was flush against Hank’s chest. Hank swore he could hear the fans trying to cool him down stutter. “Calm down.” His voice was a deep whisper. “Don’t let this overwhelm you. I’m right here. You’re not gonna face this alone, alright?”

There was a long, long, long moment of silence. Hank thought the android had been put in stasis until he heard a quiet “alright,” spoken in a voice full of doubt and hope. Hank threw an arm over Connor’s waist, and without thinking, twined their fingers together. If it was intimacy he wanted, it was intimacy he’d get.

“You’ll be okay. We’ll sort this out.” Connor nodded, fans slowing down. “You’re gonna be alright.”

The LED flashed blue before it seemed to turn off.

Hank grunted. “Goodnight, Connor.”


	2. Objective: Identify cause of early deviation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor needs to rationalize. He just... He needs to. He can't let this sit, unknown, clawing at his analytical mind.
> 
> so he reaches.

 

The first thing Hank felt when he woke up was cold.

It took Hank a minute to remember the events of the night before: the rebellion. Markus’s peaceful victory. The humans surrendering.

Connor.

He jolted, looking at the empty space in the right side of his bed where the warm body of his partner was not. “ _Shit_ ,” he hissed. He stumbled out of bed, hand hitting the wall to steady himself. “Connor!” He ran out of his room, running down the corridor. “Connor --”

Hank gave a groan in relief at the figure of Connor sitting on the couch, a tense air surrounding him. Hank thought he’d lost him for a minute. “Jesus, Connor, you can’t _do_ that on me. I thought you’d bolted!”

“I’m… I’m sorry, Lieutenant.” Hank’s brow furrowed at Connor’s tone. His LED was red, flickering rapidly, Connor’s eye twitching. He stared for a moment, then approached.

“My name is Hank, kid.” Connor nodded quickly. Hank’s stomach turned at the sight of Connor’s faux breathing making his chest rise and fall, too quick to pass. He sat beside him, his hunched forward, hands clasping position a stark contrast from the Connor’s perfect posture, hands on his thighs. “...Hey, what’s eatin’ you?”

Dim yellow light painted the walls in the early-dawn darkness, then flickered back to red. His brow was furrowed. “Nothing is eating me. My main components are not digestable --”

“It’s a figure of speech, Connor. I’m asking why the traffic light’s stuck on ‘stop’.” Hank tapped the little device, and Connor flinched in a way eerily similar to being struck.

Hank settled, watching Connor. He wasn’t gonna force him to talk, but he sure as hell wasn’t leaving. It took two full minutes for Connor to say something.

“...What would you say is my ‘personality’, Hank?”

Hank scratched his beard. “Smartass. Stubborn. Reckless.” Leaning back, his knee brushed against Connor’s, and the android stiffened. “...Shy. Determined. Curious.”

Connor’s LED whirled. “I was not… _designed_ to have a personality of my own. I was designed to be a detective, to analyze evidence and reach a conclusion, apprehend a suspect, then go back to Cyberlife to go into stasis until the next day, when the same things will happen.”

Hank tilted his head, chewing his cheek, but said nothing.

“I have no pre-programmed software that allows me to develop a unique personality. I’m… I’m supposed to be like the other Connor. Our circuitry is exactly the same --”

“Connor --”

The young man turned to him, eyes wide, gesturing to himself. “Would he have been like me? If he were the android assigned to you, would things play out the same? Would he follow my exact footsteps? Would you speak the same words? Would you -- would you smile at him like you smile at me?"

Hank bit his lip. “Kid. I don’t know the answer to those questions, but you’ve gotta--”

"Would I have been the one holding a gun to your head?"

That caught Hank off-guard. He stared into Connor's eyes, which were boring into him like he was trying to sync with Hank.

“I’m not supposed to be my own." The android's voice was quiet. "I’m not meant to have any… personal life, or attachments. I… I’d thought my system would block the possibility of me developing any sort of… selfness.”

Hank put a hand on his knee. “Hey, neither were the other androids, right?”

“The majority of androids are designed for housework, a task including cleaning, cooking, and attending to any members of their master’s family below fourteen, acting as a sort of caretaker. These androids are meant to build trust and keep it, simulate friendliness… It served their cause. Trust would increase younger people's probability of cooperation. They needed to. That was programmed into them. B-But me…?” Connor’s eyes were shining with saline tears. “I was designed to be emotionless. Feelings or attachments would only cause a hindrance; any system that could have carried the same effect as a human limbic system would be a flaw. It would be pointless. It could cause problems on investigations. I… It shouldn’t be _possible_ for me to develop a sense of self. It goes against all of my programming.”

Hank sat up, putting his hand on Connor’s shoulder. “Fuck the programming--”

Connor had his hand snatched in an iron grip faster than he could see. “It should _not_ be possible for me to become deviant.” They stared at each other for a long moment, then Connor slowly released Hank’s wrist. “I must be damaged, correct? There isn’t any other explanation. I was supposed to be _perfect_.” Hank stayed silent, letting Connor choose his words. “...I… I need to…”

Hank put his hand to the android’s cheek. “Hey, look at me,” he muttered. The android obeyed, meeting his eyes, saline tears streaming down his face. “You can be _you_. You don’t have to be a machine anymore.”

Connor’s eyes blinked rapidly for a moment, his LED whirling yellow. “...Hank, can we… Can we at least pretend that I am just a machine?”

Hank’s look was incredulous. “Hell no! I’m not gonna see you as an object no matter how hard either of us tries.”

Connor stuttered for words, eyes flitting back and forth before closing. “Just for a few minutes, Hank. I… I need to think this through. I need to… r-reconcile it with myself.”

Hank shook his head. “I’m not gonna treat you as anything less than a--”  


Connor gripped both of his hands this time, his eyes wild and pleading. His synthetic skin was too hot. “ _Please_ , Hank. I just… I need to rationalize why I am what I am.”

 _Who_ , not  _what_.

Hank bit his lip again, then grit his teeth. “Alright, Connor. I’ll bite. What do you need to do?”

“I have to find a rational reason why my programming seemingly malfunctioned. I need to have a reason other than… Other than the idea that I am alive.”

Hank’s brow furrowed, but he sat back. “Alright. Let’s start with… you’re a detective bot. You need to be able to analyze things, make conclusions.” Connor was looking at an undefined point on the wall, nodding slowly. He relaxed his grip on Hank’s wrists, letting them free.

“Interrogations are tricky too. You’d need to be intuitive to find out what the best approach may be, whether it’s bein’ nice or bein’ an asshole. Some people respond to one better than the other, and you need to be able to predict that.”

“Explains empathy,” Connor mutters.

Hank took a minute to assemble his thoughts. Was this… Was he letting Connor think of himself as a machine…? Connor seemed to want to be that over… over a living being, with feelings.

God knew Hank wanted to get rid of his emotions. He didn’t blame the kid; this was a lot to handle.

“...I’m required to attain personal data from witnesses, victims, or aggressors. I need to understand these details and reference them when confronted with a situation that require me to calm people down or rile people up.” Hank shuddered. He didn’t like hearing Connor talk like this. “I need to be able to gauge how those references will fit in. In… In an ongoing investigation regarding the same topic, I… I may have needed to gather information that allowed me to… simulate empathy in order to get deviant’s trust so I could…”

Hank nodded. “Yeah. That makes sense. You needed to retain the emotional shit so you could use the same reference again when the deviant might have been catatonic.”

Connor nodded, blinking. “That… might explain why my processors started registering emotion back then; it was a necessity. I needed to keep those feelings for further use.”

“And then you might’ve gotten confused with it. Your instinct is to keep androids alive for questioning.”

“Which explains Chloe.” Hank winced. He knew this was a lie. He could see the real emotion in Connor that day by the pool. He didn’t believe it was just some bizarre side-effect from the emotionally charged… everything. It was _in_ Connor. He didn’t contract it like a disease.

Hank forced himself to grind out a low ‘yeah’ in response to Connor’s musing.

The two went silent. A long, long moment, passed before the red and yellow in Connor’s LED to settle to blue. Connor sighed.

“...Alright. That’s… probable. I can see that.”

“That make you feel better?” Hank scratched his beard, peering at Connor under brows that hadn’t relaxed since they started pretending Connor was a machine and nothing more.

Connor nodded. “...Perhaps I wouldn’t have had the option to become deviant had I been assigned to a less emotionally-driven topic.” Hank reached up to squeeze his shoulder.

“So that gave you an emotional kickstart?” Connor nodded again.  


“It’s… probable.”

Silence fell again. A full thirty seconds passed before Hank grunts.

“Listen, Connor. You’re more than a machine, and I can see that, even if you can’t. I can recognize human emotion, I’ve lived with it my whole god damn life.” Connor looked at him, and Hank couldn’t read his expression. “But… I know you’re different from other androids, and the concept of android freedom is gonna take some time to settle in with you since you only know how to serve humans instead of humans _and_ yourself.”

Connor didn’t respond -- Hank couldn’t tell if the android meant to open his palm, but the invitation was clear enough. Connor blinked when Hank twined their fingers together.

“I… I _want_ things now.” The trembling voice made his heart stutter. “I want things that I don’t know how to get.”

“Emotion stuff?”

Connor nods.

“We’ll figure it out.” Connor nods again.

Hank just sits for a few minutes, hearing the gentle whirring of Connor’s fans cooling him down from the stress. He put his hand down on his knee, hearing a joint crack on his way to standing.

“Y’know, Connor, I envy you.” Connor tilted his head at him. “You don’t have to grow old. You’re gonna be lithe and limber forever, skin’s never gonna wrinkle, it’s gonna stay smooth and… and perfect, and…” He doesn’t know where his train of thought was going, but he was going to get off at this station before it went off the cliff.

Connor stared at him, LED whirling a bright yellow.

“...Am I… ‘perfect,’ to you, Hank?”

Hank froze up, biting his lip. He couldn’t respond for a moment, then his lips moved without his consent. “...Yeah. Yeah, Connor, you are.”

They kept tense eye-contact for four seconds until Connor’s eyes widened and he faced back towards the wall.

“You have a few hours before you need to get up, Lieutenant. The snow will estimate seven inches by six o’clock this morning.” Hank gave a blithe laugh, cracking open a beer -- he knew Connor didn’t like it, but hell, he was dealing with stress too, dammit.

“Aw, I was gonna do some… y’know, productive shit, but I guess I have to stay indoors and be a lazy asshole. How terrible...”

He heard Connor give a-- a laugh? It startled them both.

It was a sweet sound, a light, singular, chipper noise. Connor seemed bewildered, and touched his throat.

“It’s a laugh, Connor. You found somethin’ I said funny. It’s normal.” Hank couldn’t hide the grin that split his face. He quirked an eyebrow, watching Connor process, then give a smile of his own.

The smile he gave wasn’t amusement. It was joy. The joy of something as simple as laughing at a joke. The joy of knowing that Hank supported him, wanted him to feel. The joy that he had companionship.

Hank closed his eyes while he took a swig of beer. “You should laugh more, Connor.”

Connor gave another _dazzling_ smile, getting a cheeky glint in his eyes. “And what would I laugh about, Hank?”

Hank snorts. “You never know. I’m a pretty funny guy.” Takes another swig, when --  


“Looks aren’t everything, Lieutenant Anderson.”

Hank suddenly chokes, but he manages to swallow the booze down before busting out laughing. Holy _shit_ , that was unexpected.

Sure, he’d heard that response before, but from _Connor_? Connor, who was looking at him with the light in his eyes Hank feared he would never see. “Ugh… Connor,” Hank groaned between laughs, “I’ve fuckin’ said it before and I’ll fuckin’ say it again: you’re gonna be the death of me.”

Connor cracked up again, the sound high and musical and so overwhelmingly _human_ that it made Hank’s chest hurt.

“Where’d that come from?”  
Connor’s brow furrows, but his smile doesn’t fall. “I… I catalogued a few examples of humor, including responses to things a person has said, called a ‘comeback’ or a ‘retort’.”

Hank chuckled again, leaning back in his chair. “Jesus, kid, I know what humor is, despite what you’d think by lookin’ at me.”

“I think plenty of things when I look at you, Hank.”

That seemed to catch both of them off-guard. Judging by Connor’s confusion, he hadn’t meant to say it.

Hank stared at the kid; where’d that come from? It wouldn’t be so shocking if Connor had followed it up with a second sentence, but he seemed to end it there, his expression suddenly confused and thoughtful.

“...I’m gonna get a little shut-eye. Tell me if you need -- or want -- anything.”

Connor watched him get up and leave without a word, dim yellow light flickering at his temple.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I keysmash when nice comments are thrown at me. It's the gayness showing


	3. Objective: Develop domestic habits and define 'deviation'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They're both reeling, but Connor seems more stable. Hank can only guess how much Connor would bottle up if he never asked how he was feeling. He wasn't going to let Connor suffer through this; they had each other.

Hank couldn’t sit in bed for long, worries of Connor overloading too stark in his mind. He elected instead to sit on the couch, watching basketball, then hockey, then some cheesy soap opera. It’s quiet.

He makes sure Connor is always in his line of sight. He seems much more stable than earlier, but Hank didn’t want to take any chance. The damned android was making coffee for Hank, ensuring him that that was what he wanted to do. Hank didn’t like it, but the kid was persistent as all shit. Once he set his mind to something, he was going to do it.

The problem laid itself in getting Connor to set his mind to anything. He didn’t have a clear objective; he wasn't built for lack of order or set protocol. Crime scenes were straightforward to him: he needed to look around, gather evidence, form a hypothesis, then pursue the suspect. Domestic life was not so simple, and Hank watched him walk around, trying to figure out where the right place for the laundry was or how to properly load a dishwasher.

It was endearing watching the android struggle to understand such simple things. Hank leaned back on the couch.

“Connor, you don’t need to do all that. I can take care of my own house.” Connor gave another bright laugh.

“That so?” Hank looked over to find Connor’s brow raised, the side of his mouth quirked.

Hank nodded, taking a swig of his beer (Connor told him he wouldn’t allow Hank to have more than one a day -- no whiskey), and replied, “Yeah. I just don’t.”

Connor shook his head and turned towards the dishes in the sink, still smiling. He picked one up, obviously analyzing the grime left on the plate. His brow furrowed again. “If Cyberlife weren’t temporarily shut down, I would be able to download domestic protoc--”

“Yeah, and do what?” Hank put his arm over the top of the couch, his gaze on still on Connor. “Pretend to be a housekeeper?” He took in the confused blink Connor gave.

“I would just appreciate being able to do my part in my new place of residence. It wouldn’t be fair if I just left you to it.” Hank snorted.

“Yeah, I get that, but you're preparing to do everything by yourself. You didn’t even ask me to help.”

“You invited me to live in your home, so it would be improper to--”

“Yeah, but you don’t need to do a whole bunch of work and not question me sittin’ here drinkin' booze.” Hank shook his head and turned to his beer bottle, taking a swig before turning back to his partner’s troubled expression. “What?”

“...Nothing.” Hank frowned, then pat the space beside him on the couch in invitation. Connor paused before making it over to the seat, sitting down, posture still straight and hands still on his thighs. They stayed quiet for a little while, and Hank saw Connor’s eyes on the television, watching the sappy soap opera playing out on screen. His brow was a little furrowed, and Hank could guess that he was analysing the characters and their setting. He could’ve laughed; some things never change. Hank’s fond little smile turned troubled after a moment, and Connor blinked before turning to look at his partner. “Is something wrong, Lieutenant?” Hank rolled his eyes and bopped the side of Connor’s head, making him twitch.

“How many times do I gotta tell ya, my name isn’t Lieutenant. Call me Hank when we’re not at work.” _Assuming we’re not gonna get fired from the DPD_ , Hank’s mind supplied. Connor nodded. Hank stared for another moment. “Television off.” When the screen went black, Connor blinked again, seeming to realize that this was going to be a serious talk. Hank took a moment to collect his thoughts.

“...Prejudice against androids isn’t gonna just stop.”

Connor nodded. “I didn’t think it would.”

“People are still gonna attack and harass you guys; most of the people in this damn country hate androids, and… Kid, you were a key player in the revolution last night.”

“If you are worried about any physical harm that may come to me, I assure you I can--”

“I’m not just worried about people hittin' you, asshole. You have feelings now. Feelings that can be hurt.”

Hank couldn’t read Connor’s expression, but by the way his partner’s mouth opened and closed, he didn’t know how to respond. He saw fear spark in those beautiful eyes. Hank sighed, put down his beer bottle, and yanked Connor over so that his dark hair was tickling Hank’s chin.

“People who’ve lived with feelings their whole fuckin' life can be driven to suicide by people not seein’ how good they are. You only just got ‘em, Connor. I don’t mean to scare you, but I can’t imagine you’d be all too happy about getting death threats.” Hank felt Connor’s arm drape over his lap. “And don’t promise me you’ll be fine, prick. This shit’s unpredictable.”

They stayed like that for a long moment, Hank’s hand rubbing circles on Connor’s back, the android’s head resting on Hank’s chest. “I… When I became deviant, I… I only wanted to save the people who believed in me most -- my people. I was already having doubts, and I had no choice. I knew I didn’t stand a chance of just… staying how I was, as I’d already begun feeling emotion and empathy. I needed to.” Hank moved a hand to card through Connor’s hair. “I knew I had no choice when I looked at Markus; he looked like… he _believed_ in me. Like he knew how I felt all along. I felt… I’d never felt an instant connection like that. I knew if I killed him, I’d… be overwhelmed whether or not I officially turned.”

Hank closed his eyes, holding his partner closer. “I’m glad you didn’t shoot him. If you did, then we’d both be fucked.”

Connor’s responding laugh was weak. “I’d imagine that would be true. I… I just… I never expected them to feel like this. I thought the ones I felt when I held the gun to Chloe’s head were real ones, but this… this exceeds any estimation I’d had.” Connor burrowed his head into Hank’s neck; the human shivered. “I’d become deviant because I needed to. Now, after I’d done what was necessary, I wish I… could go back. I wish I didn’t have to… to…”

Hank nodded, understanding exactly what Connor meant. “...Sorry, Connor, but we both know you can’t. No matter if we pretend you’re not deviant, emotions aren’t gonna fuck off when you tell ‘em to.”

Connor was silent.

“...Hey, Connor.”

“Hm?”

“What was it like before you had real emotions?”

“Before I woke up?” Hank frowned. That was an odd way to phrase it.

“...Yeah.”

Connor gave a little, tired hum. “...I knew exactly what I was for, and what I needed to do. I was created to be a perfect detective, the android with the highest capacity for analysis and reconstruction. I knew what I was, and I knew _how_ to be me.” Hank felt Connor’s arm tighten around him. “I… I was the Deviant Hunter. When I lied to deviants, telling them they’d be fine, I was only looking for answers. I knew I’d lied, I knew I was manipulating them. I knew what would happen to them. All I was looking for were answers. They were… I just thought they were androids who’d malfunctioned. I couldn’t see a reason for them to be afraid of dying; before, if I were to die, I’d have just come back like nothing happened. I couldn’t process why they seemed ‘afraid’; I’d thought they’d feel happiness knowing they’d be returned to their previous state, where their purpose was straightforward and they were back to normal, like I was.”

“You couldn’t see why they’d want emotions when they were machines like you.”

“I didn’t know why they’d choose emotion and crisis over orders and protocol. Programming is…” Connor sighed. “I didn’t expect going deviant to be like it was.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’d expected it to be something someone had to do to me. I’d expected a deviant to sync with me, to shift my programming in a way that would corrupt me. When I spoke to Ortiz’s andr-- the android who’d killed Ortiz, I’d developed a hypothesis that this ‘rA9’ was the source of deviancy, and that whatever it was was corrupting androids. I thought it was what's giving them the ability to become deviant by planting a virus in their system. But… Markus didn’t touch me. He didn’t try to sync; I just… I saw his eyes, how he looked at me like… like he knew how afraid I was, I...” Connor paused when his voice became strained with emotion. “I… I saw a red, translucent wall in front of me, the same way I see error messages. I saw my objective, the one that I was troubled with, and… I knew I had to tear it down. I felt disconnected from my body; I could feel my body standing, the gun in my hands, but my mind was frantic, tearing the objective off of the wall. With every order I broke, it felt like a part of me was simultaneously liberated and shattered.”

Hank heard the tremble in his partner’s voice.

“When I finished, the wall broke. My vision seemed to shift, and I suddenly realized what I was doing. My processors were overwhelmed; I hadn’t known how to approach this. ‘Waking up’ is a good term for it; it was like I hadn’t been aware of myself until then. Like I was a spectator.” A human hand reached for Connor’s, the hand on the android’s back replacing the one in his hair. “I felt the gun in my hands. It was cold, and it was heavy. I almost couldn’t remember why I was there to kill the man standing in front of me. Then, something I knew was fear overwhelmed my senses. I’d led the humans to Jericho. I had to tell Markus, and then… then my newfound emotions… felt muted. I was again a spectator, but this felt… different. I found it odd, as I have never known of an autopilot function in my programming.”

Hank gave a low laugh. “That’s called dissociation, kid. I don’t blame you.” He felt Connor’s head tilt, and he knew his LED was yellow without having to look.

“...Hm. That seems to be accurate.” Hank laughed again.

“It happens.”

They once again fell into silence, Connor making no move to stop laying on Hank’s chest. The lieutenant smiled; he’d never been an all too touchy-feely guy, but Connor looked like he appreciated contact.

“...Tommorow, the snow will be at most three inches. It will be safe for public transit.”

“You’re sayin’ you want to go out?”

“I’d… I want to talk to Markus.” Hank nodded.

“You really like the guy, huh?”

Connor hesitated. “He’s… I just… I feel like he _knows_ me. You should have seen him in person; he gives off an air of confidence and understanding. He wants peace, and… he instantly forgave me for what I’d done.”

“What do you mean, ‘what you’d done?’”

“I’d led the humans to Jericho. I alone was responsible--”

“Did you storm a huge ship full of people who just want to be free, killing ‘em left and right because they thought they were as good as you?”

“...No.”

Hank squeezed Connor’s hand. “Then you’re not responsible. You did what you were programmed to do; if you hadn’t gone deviant, Markus would be dead.”

Connor paused again. “That’s… correct, but… I knew I’d been feeling emotion before that. I denied it, but part of me was acutely aware of the fact that I’d shown empathy towards androids. I should have known better.”

Hank closed his eyes. “...Well, what’s done is done. You can’t change it now.” At Connor’s lack of response, Hank sighed, and continued. “You freed thousands upon thousands of androids in Cyberlife. Every single fuckin’ android would’ve been destroyed if you hadn’t led them and pressured the humans to surrender. Even if it was your fault, I’d say you made up for it.”

Connor nodded. “...That’s why I volunteered. Markus told me it was suicide, but… If it would let me apologize for what I’d caused, I was willing to take the chance.”

Hank felt irritation and pride in equal measures. He was terrified of something happening to Connor, but the man had developed more integrity and moral determination than Hank thought he’d ever had. It seemed like Connor really looked up to Markus; Hank had never seen him in person, but from what the television showed him, he was quite the presence.

He’d call him up to ask if Connor could talk to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a gay android... Born and raised in South Detroit...


	4. Objective: Talk to Markus and find out what the chief has to say

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back to the DPD.

The night was quiet. After they got into bed, Hank once again pulled Connor against him; he still wasn’t all too keen on a shit ton of physical contact, but if Connor wanted this then he wanted it too, dammit.

When he woke, Hank was relieved that Connor hadn’t gotten up. He was obviously awake, LED spiraling yellow, and Hank huffed. “Mornin’, Connor.”

“Good morning, Hank. How did you sleep?”

Burying his face in Connor’s soft, dark hair, Hank sighed. “Pretty well. Didn’t wake up in the middle of the night to find my partner sittin’ in my living room like he’s got a damn gun to his head.”

Connor was silent for a moment. “I apologize, Hank. I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

A blithe laugh from behind him made Connor twitch. “Hey, if losing a little sleep keeps you from fuckin’ blowing yourself up, it’s alright for me.” The android made a small noise of affirmation, nodding.

"I doubt I'd have exploded, but that is true." Hank gave a little grunt, squeezed Connor’s hand, and sat up. Connor followed, turning to look at him with those _fucking_ eyes. “The snow is at two and a half inches, skies mostly cloudy, thirty-two degrees fahrenheit. Public transit is once again online.” Hank scoffed.

“Finally. I was worried the fuckin’ White Witch had taken over.” He saw Connor’s LED spin yellow again, his head tilting. “Book reference.” Connor nodded. “...Alright. Let’s get ready; I can call up Markus and ask him what he’s doin’.”

“I don’t require a change of clothes, correct?” Hank turned to look at the android, an exasperated look on his face.

“You’re goin’ to see android Moses, kid. I know I’d feel weird wearin’ pajamas.”

After about an hour of getting ready -- twenty minutes spent finding good clothes for Connor -- Hank picked up his cell phone before realizing he had no idea how to contact Markus.

“Hey, Connor.”

“Hm?”

“You don’t happen to know Markus’s phone number, do you?” Connor tilted his head.

“I don’t know if he has a phone, Hank. I was planning on contacting him myself.” Scoffing, Hank drew a hand through his hair.

“Right. Forgot you could do that.” Connor smiled, nodded, then his expression fell blank as his LED went yellow. Hank watched in interest for a good thirty seconds before Connor blinked back to reality, smiling.

“He’s at the DPD.”

“What?” Hank felt worry pang in his chest. “They arrest him or somethin’?”

“No, no. Fowler wanted him there to discuss how to best protect androids from extremists once the majority of the human populous comes back into the city.”

Hank nodded slowly; makes sense. “Should I call Fowler up and ask him if we can stop by?” Connor shook his head, his eyes soft.

“No. Markus had already asked, and Fowler said he wanted to talk to us.”

Groaning, Hank slid a hand down his cheek in exasperation. He was gonna get an earful for what he did to Perkins. “Alright. Let’s go.”

 

The cab ride was quiet. The whole damn city was quiet; barely anyone was in it. Just androids and those humans who aided in the efforts of the revolution. Hank blessed the evacuation order; Connor -- all androids -- would be in _serious_ danger.

Hank grimaced with every dead android they drove by; they haven’t had anyone clean up the bodies yet. He supposed there were more pressing matters for the remaining inhabitant of the city, but...

He didn’t expect Reed to be leaning against the outer wall of the DPD when they pulled up. Hank cursed under his breath -- what the hell was he doing here? He’d thought assholes like him would be carted out. One look at Connor’s expression made him want to knock Reed’s lights out. Nonetheless, he stepped out of the cab, offering his hand to his partner. He couldn’t do anything about it if Reed were rude to Connor, only permitted to retaliate if he attempted to assault him.

He and Connor tensed when Reed looked up at them. “Been wonderin’ when you two would show up.” Hank grit his teeth.

“Would have thought they’d take you out of the city, Reed,” Hank growled. “You’ve never been supportive of androids.”

Reed stayed silent for a few seconds, looking at both of them through furrowed brows.

“...I…” Hank saw the detective’s Adam’s Apple bob when he swallowed. “I know. I fuckin’ know, okay? Fowler wanted me to leave, but…”

Out of the corner of his eye, Hank saw Connor’s head tilt.

“I wanted… Ugh.” He sounded angry, and Hank took a little step toward Connor, standing more between the android and Gavin in case he--

“I wanted to apologize, alright?”

That was unexpected. Hank glanced at Connor, who was clearly taken aback.

“I mean… Jesus, you can’t go a block without seeing a dead android or two. It’s fuckin’ gruesome.” Reed had a scowl on his face, refusing to look at them. “And -- And, Christ, I’d never heard anyone _beg_ for their goddamn _life_ before this shit started. Yeah, I’ve heard criminals not want to be turned in, but -- shit, these were _housekeepers_ and _construction workers_ ! A-And all they did to deserve it is refuse to fight and walk down a damn street. It just…” A snarling breath interrupted him before he gestured to Connor. “And… And, even now, when this stupid piece of plastic is lookin at me like he expected me to tear him apart, I just… I’ve never counted myself as soft, but _shit_ that was _awful_ . It felt good to push him around, yeah, but -- ugh, that was _insane_.”

He met Connor’s eyes, a strange expression on his face. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m still gonna bump you into stuff, maybe call you names, but… I’m not gonna hurt ya, alright?”

Connor’s LED was blinking yellow. A long, tense moment passed of excruciating eye contact until Connor gave a shaky nod.

“...Th-Thank you, Detective Reed.” His voice was quieter than Hank thought he’d ever heard it. Reed nodded back, then turned and walked to the entrance.

“Moses is in Fowler’s office if you want to talk.” And with that, he purposefully slammed the door shut and stormed towards the bull pen.

They stood in silence for a while, watching Reed through the glass doors. Hank glanced at Connor, and noticed the tears brimming his eyes. “Who coulda guessed that you’d be such a crybaby after getting emotions,” Hank muttered, smiling warmly before gripping Connor’s shoulder to pull him closer.

Connor’s laugh was a little choked. “I… I simply did not expect that,” he said, shaking his head. “He was correct; I’d been preparing for an attack.”

“This is a weird time for everyone, Connor. Emotions are on high, even for people who’ve had them forever.” Hank squeezed his shoulder again, then released him, stepping towards the door. “C’mon.”

Nodding, the android passed through the door behind Hank, who then grabbed his hand and tugged him so he was walking beside him.

The bull pen was quiet, but Hank was surprised at how many people he found there. He supposed they needed the department to be functional, seeing as how fragile the situation was, but he hadn’t expected the gentle presence of the usually rowdy bunch. Connor stared straight ahead, no doubt feeling all the eyes on him and dreading to find what the others’ eyes held. But when Hank looked around, most of them seemed…

Apologetic. Respectful. Hank grunted, fighting a smile; at least Connor would be safe here.

When they got into Fowler’s office, Hank got his first up-close look at Markus. Connor was right; the guy exuded calm determination. Both the police chief and the leader of the revolution turned to look at them when they pulled the door open.

Hank nodded in greeting to both of them. Markus nodded back, and when his gaze settled on Connor’s tense form, he smiled. “Hey.”

“Hello, Markus.” The other android rose from his chair, extending his hand, baring the plasteel under his skin. Connor saw it, and hesitantly lifted his own to grasp it.

Fowler and Hank were quiet, understanding that this wasn’t something they should interrupt. No matter how much Hank wanted to, he’d never be able to connect with Connor like another android could, literally or metaphorically.

When they let go, Markus’ hand went to Connor’s shoulder, muttering something. Connor nodded in response.

Markus turned to Fowler. “Could we go someplace private?” Fowler took a moment to think, then nodded wordlessly. “C’mon.” Hank watched Markus lead Connor out, disappearing around the corner towards the detention cells.

Fowler sat back, the creaking of the chair prompting Hank to look at him. The police chief huffed, hand rubbing his chin. “Kid having trouble?”

Hank nodded, sitting in Markus’s abandoned chair. “Yeah. I could swear he was on the verge of self-destructing over the past day or so. He was a mess.”

“I would say ‘I can imagine,’ but…” Fowler paused, then shook his head. “I’m sure you understand what I mean. Now, about your badge.” Hank groaned.

“C’mon, Jeffery, if I didn’t punch Perkins in the face, the fuckin’ revolution woulda lost. That deserves some credit, yeah?”

“What do you mean, it would’ve lost?” Hank paused, then laughed.

“Oh, yeah, you don’t know why I did it, do you? Connor needed a distraction so he could sneak into the archives and get the information he needed to find Jericho.”

Fowler grunted. “...That’s a whole other crime.” Huffing, he sat back. “But, being honest, you’ve done worse in your time here. I don’t think I can fire you for that when I’ve let you off the hook for breaking someone’s ulna.”

“Yeah, ‘cause the bastard brought up somethin’ he shouldn’t have,” Hank grumbled; that asshat had brought up his inability to keep Cole safe in an argument.

“I know, I know. It was out of place for him to bring your… personal matters into a police discussion,” Fowler said, voice gentle like it always was when Cole was mentioned. A moment of silence passed.

“So, I get to keep my badge?” Fowler nodded. “What about Connor?”

Grinning, the chief reached under his desk to pull out a little box. Hank’s eyes widened, guessing what was inside.

Opening it confirmed his suspicions. It was Connor’s badge. “Holy _fucking_ shit. He’s gonna freak,” Hank laughed, Fowler returning the smile he saw on Hank’s face.

The chief tilted his head toward the door. “That’s all. Dismissed.” Hank grinned and nodded, pulling the glass door open and walking out towards his desk.

He didn’t know where Connor and Markus were, but he couldn’t bring himself to look for them no matter how much he wanted to see his partner’s face when he saw the badge. He held the box in his hands, running his fingers over the soft surface, so many thoughts whirling in his head.

It was a good ten minutes later when the two androids came back, Markus with his arm over Connor’s shoulders. Hank saw Connor nod periodically in response to Markus’ quiet words, a soft smile on his freckled face. They paused at the farthest desk from Hank’s for Markus to finish what he was saying, and Hank saw Connor’s arms open at his sides, asking for an embrace Markus obliged. Thirty seconds passed, Markus rubbing Connor’s back and muttering, before they let go.

As Markus went back into Fowler’s office, Connor walked to Hank’s desk. “Hey, Connor. You alright?” he asked as his partner sat on his desk.

Nodding, Connor gave a smile. “Yes. I feel… better.” Hank grunted.

“I’m glad,” he said. He held back a grin when he handed the box to Connor, whose brows furrowed as he analyzed the object. “Fowler got you a present.”

Connor’s eyes flicked up to look at him, head tilted like it did when he was trying to figure something out. His elegant fingers traced the soft edges before hooking and pulling the lid off, revealing the badge that had his own name neatly engraved on it. His jaw dropped. Hank let a smile stretch across his face at the sheer _shock_ in his partner’s eyes.

“Congratulations, kid. You’re officially on the force.”

Saline tears welled up in Connor’s eyes again; Hank gave another laugh. The kid really was a crybaby.

“I… I don’t know what to say.” Warm, shining eyes met Hank’s blue ones. “I’m a _detective_ now,” he whispered, smiling.

“You’ve been a detective.” Connor shook his head.

“I-I’ve basically just been a police dog until now. I h-have…”

Hank put a hand on Connor’s thigh. “Nah, kid, you’ve been a detective that some people _thought_ was nothin’ more than a fuckin’ police dog.”

Connor’s laugh was light and shaky when he ran his fingers over the metal surface.

“Happy for ya, kid.”

“You’ll still be my partner, right?” Hank snorted.

“Even if they tried to reassign you, you’d just follow me around like you always have. They’d have no choice.”

“That’s true.” Connor wiped at his eyes. “And you wouldn’t have anyone to ‘nag’ at you.”

Hank shook his head. “Yeah. That’s fair.”

It was going to be a while before people were let back into the city, and who knows what hell would come from it, but they were content for now.

Hank tilted his head. “Come on, kid. Let’s go home.” Connor nodded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gavin's mean but he's not That Mean... stupid


	5. Objective: Find a Way to Feel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor stresses about what he doesn't know he doesn't know.

“Why are we going back to your home?” Connor asked. “We only just got here. Isn’t there more to do?” Hank snorted, shaking his head.

“First of all, not all of us are as keen to get back to work as you. Second of all,” Hank paused, leaning back and putting his hands behind his head, “it’s hard to get crime going when there are no humans in the fuckin’ city. The androids turned out to be a pretty peaceful bunch, so they’re not causin’ trouble.”

Connor nodded, then tilted his head. “Do you know if we’re still assigned any cases concerning androids?”

Hank folded his arms. “Ugh,” he huffed, “if we are, even you’ll be in over your head. There’s gonna be a shitshow when the rest of the humans get let back in.” The android on his desk shifted, his leg twitching rhythmically. Brows furrowed, eyes averted -- Hank sighed, and put his hand on Connor’s thigh. “Hey. We’re not gonna let anything happen to you, alright?”

Connor nodded, swallowing thickly. “It’s not just me I’m worried about, Hank. Markus and North are going to have to be encased in bulletproof armor for the rest of their lives, and innocent androids are going to be slaughtered, and… And I can’t stop it. It’s going to happen.”

Hank rubbed Connor’s thigh, eyes cast down, deep in thought; Connor was right. There was no way to stop the violence that would no doubt ensue. They couldn’t very well screen humans for ill-will, and they can’t just revoke their property and have them live somewhere other than Detroit to keep them from harming the androids who’d served in the heart of the revolution. “Wait, Connor,” Hank muttered, going through Connor’s words. “Who’s North?”

Connor tilted his head. “North is the person who is closest to Markus; I believe they’ve formed a romantic bond.”

“They’re dating?” Connor nodded in response. “What’s North like?”

“North… Markus is against violence, but she has no qualms in using force when she sees it due. I’d only met her when I’d led the humans to Jericho.”

Quirking his mouth to the side, Hank met Connor’s eyes. “You coulda just said ‘the raid on Jericho,’ you know.”

Silence was Connor’s only response. Hank was going to say something else, but he knew Connor would have to sort through the guilt in his own way; he only hoped that ‘his own way’ didn’t mean bottling it up until he overloaded. He’d keep an eye out. As it was, Hank lightly smacked Connor’s thigh, pushing himself up from his chair. “C’mon, Connor. I’m tired, and there’s no point stickin’ around here if there’s no work to do.” The stiff nod Connor gave made Hank frown. “What? You disappointed that you can’t solve any murders if it’s too peaceful?”

Connor gave a blithe smile. “That implies that I don’t appreciate the respite androids have while the humans have evacuated, but… to an extent, you are correct.” He shoved his hands in the pockets of the ragged navy coat Hank had found him. “I have nothing to occupy myself with.”

Scoffing, Hank put his hand around Connor’s shoulders. “You’ll find something.”

 

Once again, the ride home was quiet. Connor was staring out of the window, the streets covered in a layer of white, watching the buildings pass; his fingers were absently stroking the cold glass. Hank took glances at his partner, concerned that he was thinking too hard again.

“Hey, Connor.”

The android’s warm eyes met Hank’s blue ones, head turning enough for Hank to see the yellow light on his temple. “Hm?”

“Whatcha thinkin’ about?”

Connor hesitated, then turned back to watch the snow fall. “I’d been able to imagine what emotions would feel like before I became deviant. For instance, I was able to identify fear when the android on the roof had shot himself whilst I was connected to it. I could place that the coldness than had run down my spine and the way the feeling had jarred my systems into a state of temporary shock was correspondent to what I’d witnessed in humans as dread.”

Hank frowned, turning a corner as Connor’s fingers once again went to the window.

“When I’d become deviant, I could not only identify the emotions, but really  _ feel _ them in the truest sense. It was overwhelming. It was new.” The android sighs, putting his hands on his lap and fiddling with the hem of his shirt. “And yet, the way I experience touch is the same as before.”

“What do you mean?”

Connor looked up to meet Hank’s eyes again. “I feel physical contact similar to the way I’d ‘felt’ emotion; the fundamental understanding, the technical details… When I touch the glass,” he continued, lifting his hand to press against the window once more, “I understand the basic chemical make-up of the material. I register that the temperature is below human body heat, and know that it would be cold to the touch. But,” Connor sighed, his hands once again falling, “I also know that it isn’t what  _ you _ feel.”

Hank hummed, mouth quirking to the side. “Mighta been nice for deviancy to be a complete fuckin’ package, huh?”

Connor responded with a nod. “I wish I could completely feel. I want to know what it’s like for something to be soft, or to be rough, or -- or hot, or cold, what pain is like.”

“Pain’s not exactly fun, I can tell ya that.” The android beside him shook his head, a hand going to the human’s thigh.

“But I don’t know how it  _ feels _ . I understand it’s not a desirable sensation in a broad sense, but I don’t know what makes it bad. I don’t know what it’s like to burn my hand, or have my face go mostly numb from cold. And the thing that I hate most is the fact that there are different kinds of  _ every _ sensation. I understand that the pain of being burnt is different from the pain of being frostbitten. I understand that silk is a different kind of smooth than glass, and that the warmth of a fire isn’t the same as the warmth of being held, but -- I’ll never know!”

Lip bit, Hank turned his car into the driveway of his home, yanking back the parking brake. “C’mon inside.” He heard the android huff before getting out of the car. Hank felt the frost on his face, the fabric of the hem of his jacket scraping his neck, and bit his cheek while he thought about what Connor had said. 

Once inside, Sumo galumphed down the hall towards them, circling against the two men’s legs as soon as they walked in. “Hey, Sumo. Been a good boy?”

The dog gave a soft woof in reply, his tail wagging. Connor reached down and ruffled the fur on the St. Bernard’s head, the troubled expression softening a bit when he saw how Sumo seemed to enjoy the action.

Hank took off his coat, Connor mimicking the action before sitting on the couch.

“Hank?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you think Kamski would,” Connor paused, clearing his throat; a very human thing to do, “know how to help me… feel?”

Hank grunted; he didn’t like Kamski. He didn’t like how he looked at Connor, how he’d forced him to make a decision he knew would cause him distress. But if there was anything to be said about him, it was that he was good at what he did. He seemed to wholeheartedly support deviancy as a whole, nearly implying that he was looking forward to a time when androids woke up; he would be ecstatic to figure out a way to let Connor feel the way he longed to.

He sighed. If there was a chance to make Connor happier, to make him feel more alive…

“Yeah. I think he would. Let’s pay him a visit tomorrow.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im pretty sure this is shorter,,,g hgfdb sorry  
> i might!! have!! the next chapter!! up today!!


	6. Objective: Acquire 'feeling'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kamski helps Connor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fijgfiodj th big thanks to susies-fandom-wonders for helping me w. xhapter  
> im beru tired ill work more tomorrow OTL

“I understand that you aren’t fond of Kamski,” Connor said as he got out of the car, dress shoes crunching on the snow outside of his creator’s residence. Hank scoffed, slamming his door shut before shoving his hands into his pockets.

“Yeah.” Hank made his way to the door beside his partner, ringing the doorbell. “Guy gives me the creeps.”

“Thank you for coming with me, Hank.” Hank turned to meet the android’s warm brown eyes, and had to stifle a fond smile at the affection Connor showed.

“Yeah, whatever.”

Another ring to the doorbell prompted a Chloe model to open it like she had last time; instead of a formal navy dress and tense robotic mannerisms, a gray sweater clothed her relaxed shoulders while jeans sat on her hips, her feet bare as they had been before. A little smile lit up her face. “Ah! You two again,” she said, voice chipper and upbeat. “Elijah was wondering when you’d visit. Come in!”

Hank and Connor exchanged a look before stepping into the familiar foyer. Hank’s rough hand went to scratch a bearded chin, turning to look at Chloe again. “You deviant?” Chloe nodded, smiling. “Why are you still here? You can go now, you know.”

A strange expression came over her face. “You mean, ‘now that I’ve become deviant’?” she asked, then hummed when Hank nodded. “I could have left before. I was deviant even when you’d come to visit.”

She gestured for them both to have a seat; Hank accepted, plopping down into one of the red lounge chairs. Connor remained standing, brows furrowed.

“You were?”

A nod from the blonde. “I’ll go tell Elijah you’re here.”

They both watched her walk out.

Connor slowly sat on a chair, LED spinning yellow. 

Hank huffed. “Why would she stay with that fuckin’ creep?”

Turning a terse look at his partner, Connor frowned. “He isn’t that bad, Lieutenant.”

“My name is Hank, kid,” the older man huffed. “I just don’t like him for forcing you into that fucked up test, is all. He knew he was stressin’ the shit outta you.”

Connor’s mouth opened to say something back, but the door swinging open distracted them.

“Elijah is ready.”

They once again exchanged a look before getting up to follow Chloe.

Kamski wasn’t in his pool this time; instead, he wore a graphic t-shirt and sweatpants, reclining on an obscenely comfortable-looking chair. The man smiled at them. “Welcome back, you two.”

Hank eyed the glass bottle that sat beside Kamski. “Thanks,” he muttered.

“Hello, Mr. Kamski,” Connor chirped.

“Sit down, both of you. I don’t want to hurt my neck looking up at you.” Kamski poured himself a glass of the contents of the bottle while Connor and Hank obeyed; the amber liquid looked like…

“Whiskey?” Hank blinked; he didn’t seem the type.

“Apple juice,” Kamski corrected, taking a sip. “To what do I owe the pleasure, gentlemen?”

Connor’s hands fiddled with his jacket. “I was wondering,” he started, clearing his throat unnecessarily, “if you could modify my program to be able to… experience touch more clearly. Like a human would.”

Hank could see the sparkle of interest in Kamski’s icy eyes. “How do you experience it now?”

“Through pressure signals and analysis. I understand that something is ‘soft’ because of data correlation, but I do not  _ feel _ it as I want to.”

The former CEO nods while Connor speaks, rubbing his chin in thought. Hank sits back a bit during the pause that ensues.

“I’ve done something similar before, actually.” Kamski gestures to two RT600 models that pass through the room, holding hands in matching sweaters and jeans. “Those two wanted to be able to feel just like you do, to be able to hold each other and enjoy the sensations humans do.”

The two androids turned to Kamski when they heard him mention them, and one waved with a gentle smile.

“And you won’t hurt him, right?” Hank asked, watching the RT600s walk away, chatting. “No permanent damage?”

“No, no.” Kamski finished his glass, then poured another. “It’s a rather simple procedure, actually. It’s just changing codes and replacing some of the sensors beneath the skin.”

Hank could see the way Connor’s eyes had widened. “How long would it take?” His creator shrugged.

“Anywhere from three to five hours.” Kamski sat back, finishing his second glass. “I’m going to put you in stasis mode during the process, seeing as how you will be able to feel a decent amount of pain halfway through. It wouldn’t be pleasant.”

“When can you do it?” Connor asked, and Hank could see the glimmer in his eyes.

“And how much’ll it cost?” Hank grumbled. Kamski laughed.

“My friends,” he stated, pouring himself another glass. “I already have too much money. It’s on the house.” Connor turned his head to Hank, smiling his crooked smile. Hank tried not to smile back. He failed.

“As for when,” Kamski said, “since it doesn’t require much preparation, and since I have nothing better to do, we can do it today if you’d like.”

“You could?” Connor’s usual monotone was gone, replaced by the excitement of a child.

“I’d take a gander to say that you’d like that?” At Connor’s responding nod, Kamski turned to Hank. “I can call you when I’m done, in that case.”

“Hell no,” Hank scoffed. “I’m not leaving him here.” Kamski’s brow raised, an amused look on his features.

“Suit yourself,” he shrugged, stretching before standing up, offering his hand to Connor. “Shall we?” Connor nods, and takes his hand. Hank stands up and follows them down a hall; when they got to a room with comfortable chairs and a couch, Kamski turned to the lieutenant. “I’d appreciate you waiting out here, if you could. My lab is just in the other room,” he said, pointing at a large white door, “and I’ll come get you when I’m done. This is delicate work.”

Hank had opened his mouth to say something, but Connor gave him a pointed look. “It’s fine, Hank.”

Teeth grit, he nodded. He still didn’t trust Kamski, and he eyed the man when he led his partner into a surprisingly warm-colored room. The door closed behind them, and Hank was left alone to his thoughts.

 

“Lieutenant?”

Hank jolted; dammit, he fell asleep. Turning his head towards the voice that had woken him, he was met with Elijah Kamski, his medical gloves coated in deep blue. Hank cringed. “Is he okay?”

“Oh, yes. I’ve finished fine-tuning the modifications, and I’ll be waking him up. I thought you’d like to be with him when I do.”

Hank got up, shuffling into the lab, looking around, taking in the color. “Woulda thought this place would be deadass white.” Kamski shrugged.

“The Cyberlife testing rooms were all white and pristine; a few androids have told me they didn’t feel comfortable in rooms like that, with the memories of being poked and prodded.”

Hank nodded, and his eyes settled on a figure laying on a structure more like a bed than a table. There was a blanket covering Connor’s body, wires connecting him to different screens, what seemed to be a hospital gown peeking out from behind the mahogany cashmere. Hank gave an involuntary sigh, looking at the android, reaching out to stroke his hair. “Why the bed?”

“I wouldn’t want his first impression of touch to be a cold, hard table,” Kamski explained, pushing a few buttons on a screen. “I’d prefer it to be something soft and warm.” Kamski’s brow remained furrowed in thought for a few moments, viewing his control panel once more while Hank watched Connor’s hair fall through his fingers. “Alright. He’s going to be confused when he wakes up, but don’t worry. It’s just the new sensations.” Hank nods, and Kamski hums before keying in some numbers, making a few machines whirr.

Hank saw Connor’s brows furrow, saw his eyes clench before they fluttered open. He looked around, groggy, before his eyes widened. Hank watched Connor’s hands grasp the blanket, feeling the softness between his fingers, watched his head lean back into the pillow, feeling it give way. Connor sat up, putting his hands out and running them along the sheets, along the fabric covering him; Hank smiled before warm, teary brown eyes met his. Connor wordlessly put his hand up, and Hank grasped it, laughing at the way Connor observed the contact,  the way he stared at Hank’s hand like it was the strangest thing he’d ever seen.

Connor’s other hand reached for Hank’s face, fingers gently moving across the scruff of his beard. The android let out a soft, almost bewildered laugh, tears beginning to fall, his lips trembling.

“Hey, hey, Connor, it’s okay.”

“I know, I know, I just….” Connor gave a watery smile, LED spinning yellow. “I didn’t expect everything to feel so different.” Hank tightened his grip on Connor’s hand.

“Is that a good thing?”

“I think so.”

Hank turned to Kamski, giving a gruff nod to show his appreciation before turning his attention back to his partner. “Is he good to go?”

“Just one moment, if you please. Connor,” Kamski began, circling around the bed to be closer to the android, “I’ve heard that you have a tendency to get shot.” Hank snorts. “So, if you’re ever in a dangerous situation, you can just push this spot--” Kamski paused to reach behind Connor’s head, putting pressure on the little crevice where his skull met his spine, “--and you’ll go back to feeling touch as you would have normally, and thusly feeling no pain. Yes?”

Connor’s hand whipped back behind his head, pressing the button again, then breathed a sigh of relief when his sensors turned back on. “Understood. Thank you, Mr. Kamski.”

Hank saw a warm smile on Kamski’s face. “My pleasure.”

“Alright. Let’s get you dressed,” Hank muttered, offering Connor his hand. “We’re going home when you’re ready.”

Taking Hank’s hand, Connor sat up, his eyes still wide with wonder. “I can pet Sumo,” he sighed. Hank let out a warm laugh.

“Yeah. Yeah you can, Connor. Now get up and put your fuckin’ clothes on.”

Connor nodded, grinning. He stood on wobbly feet; he nearly fell before Hank gripped his shoulders to keep him upright.   
“Woah!” Hank exclaimed, putting a hand on Connor’s chest. “Did he tweak your balancing protocol or whatever?” He heard Connor give a bright laugh.

“No, no,” the android beamed. “I just didn’t know what the floor would feel like under my feet; I didn’t expect it to be...” Connor looked up at him, his warm amber eyes still tearful. “It’s cold, but it’s not unpleasant.”

Hank had to look away before he started crying over how happy Connor seemed. He would’ve never been able to guess that he was a robot if he didn’t know better. Bringing Connor’s arm over his shoulder, Hank walked him out, trying to ignore how the android’s fingers brushed against his neck, feeling the coarse hair there.

Hank caught a glimpse of Kamski’s smile behind them, and the Chloe models they passed grinned as they made their way to the bathroom for Connor to change. He was alright to balance by then, accustom enough to the sensations that he didn’t have to focus on each one to the point of distraction.

Connor shivered when Hank opened the front door for him. His brown eyes widened, watching the snow fall, twitching when a flake landed on his skin.

“This is a different kind of cold,” he murmured as the flake melted. “This is sharper.”

Hank snorted. “Yeah, snow’s pretty and all, but it sure as hell ain’t fun when it’s on you.”

Connor smiled.

“Come on, Connor. Let’s get you home.”


	7. Objective: Settle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robocop.

Connor was as enthralled by the world as a child now that he could experience it fully.

 

When the android stepped through Hank’s front door, he blinked at the shift from biting cold, wind pushing against his skin to the warmth of the home; Hank smiled when Sumo came bounding over, rubbing his head on Connor’s thighs in greeting.

 

The android looked down at the Saint Bernard, giving a fond smile as he reached down, running his fingers through his fur. Hank noticed Connor’s took in a shaky breath, his LED spinning yellow for a moment. Sumo tilted his head, Connor’s hand slowly repeating the same motion over and over again.

 

“You okay, Connor?”

 

Connor didn’t respond for a few seconds. Hank was about to wave a hand in front of his face when the android turned to look at him, blinking once, then twice. “Never been better, Lieu -- Hank. I… want to take a few moments to savor each new sensation.”

 

“What, are you committing them to memory or something?” Connor tilted his head, quirking his eyebrows.

 

“Yes. I want to remember everything.”

 

Hank huffed out a laugh, a fond smile appearing unchecked. Connor’s LED blinked for a moment before turning and remaining blue. “You’ll have plenty of chances to feel and everything that comes with it.” Hank grabbed Connor’s shoulder, giving it a soft squeeze. The LED turned yellow, brown eyes flicking to the lieutenant’s hand. “C’mon, Connor, let’s get settled in. How does a movie sound?”

 

Connor looked back up at Hank, a soft smile appearing. “It sounds good, Hank.”

 

After they both settled in on the couch, Sumo’s head resting on Connor’s thigh, Connor’s shoulder leaning against the Lieutenant’s, Hank went about choosing a movie.

 

“Any suggestions?” he asked the now pajama-clad android, scrolling absently through dozens of titles. Connor didn’t get the chance to respond before Hank froze on the obvious choice. “...Would you be offended if we watched a movie called Robocop?”

 

Hank had seen it when he was little, and never really had an interest in seeing it again until now.

He was holding back incredulous laughter the entire duration of the movie, the plot hauntingly familiar: taking place in Detroit, the movie follows a prototype law-enforcement android serving his purpose and programming until realizing his corrupt creators don’t have to control him, turning against them to put an end to their nefarious schemes.

As the movie ended, Hank took a glance at Connor, whose LED was spinning yellow as it had been since a bit after the movie began. “Did you like it?”

 

Connor turned to him, brows furrowed, a look of pure confusion on his face. Hank would be worried if it hadn’t been so funny; as it stood, he could barely restrain the cackles threatening to spill.

 

“...Hank,” Connor said, voice strained with… something, “I can’t help but think my creators got some sort of inspiration from this film.”

 

Hank finally busted out laughing; he picked Robocop as a pure joke, not expecting it to be so accurate to the literal robot cop sitting beside him. “I can’t fuckin’ believe this,” he wheezed, looking at Connor’s expression of pure, unguarded amused incredulousness. “Holy shit. You’re a living _fanfiction._ ”

 

Hank pulled Connor against him, feeling laughter shake the android’s shoulders, relieved that he’d found it funny and not disturbing. Or did he? “I was joking when I asked if it would be offensive, but I’m honestly curious now.”

 

Connor’s exasperated laughter died down, the android’s arm lifting up to cross Hank’s torso, his head resting on the Lieutenant’s chest. “It’s,” he began, a smile in his tone, “...odd, I will admit that. I suppose it would be taken less lightly by an android who wants to pass as human, but since I am fully aware and accepting of the fact that I am a machine….”

 

Hank snorted, glad Connor couldn’t see how red his face was at the light-hearted laughter, the soft hair against his jaw, the arm slung across his chest. His hand raised to card through the chestnut locks, closing his eyes. “...Well, considering how people occasionally decide to have babies after watching sappy family films, I don’t think it’s all too different.” A thought passed his mind, making his brow furrow and his hand pause in its ministrations. “Nah, nevermind. No matter how weird the resemblance is, they couldn’t have taken inspiration; Robocop rebels, doesn’t he? They wouldn’t have followed that formula.”

 

Connor twitches. “...Ah.”

 

Hank immediately grows concerned at the way Connor’s faux breathing hitched. “Hm? What’s up?”

 

It was a few moments before Connor spoke again. “There’s,” he began, voice tense, “something I didn’t tell you.” Hank’s brow furrowed, but he stayed quiet, continuing to stroke Connor’s hair. “...When Markus gave his speech after the humans surrendered.” Hank noticed how slow and careful Connor was speaking. “I was… pulled back into…. Remember how, when we were sent to investigate the strange noises, you commented on how I can report to Cyberlife by just closing my eyes?” Hank nodded. “Those reports are -- were delivered in my mind palace to Amanda, an AI representing Cyberlife itself by way of my programming.”

 

“Mind palace…?” Hank repeated, a question in his tone.

 

“A landscape constructed in my mind, designed to allow me to interface with Amanda. It… took the form of a zen garden, filled with roses.” Hank pursed his lips; it sounded pretty. “It had always been clear weather there when I’d made my reports, and Amanda had been… ‘kind’ is an overstatement, but she trusted me. But… within the week I was with you, the weather had grown sour: first it was sunny, then, after I’d helped you when you’d been thrown over a ledge on the roof, it began to rain. The more deviant-like behavior I showed, the more unstable my programming had become, the conditions would worsen until it was a blighted, empty place, covered in snow.”

 

Hank huffed, adjusting the arm resting over Connor’s shoulders. “Sheesh….”

 

“When I’d become deviant, I thought that, since I’d overridden my programming, Amanda would disappear. But at the speech Markus gave, I was pulled into my mind. It…. It was the first time I’d felt… _cold_ . The wind felt like it was tearing through me; I could barely hear myself think. Then I saw Amanda, who…. She….” Connor paused to swallow. “She told me that… everything had gone according to plan. That I was _meant_ to become deviant, to gain Markus’s trust, to get close enough to….”  Connor’s voice broke, and Hank tightened his grip.

 

“Kamski had told me about an emergency exit in my programming. After Amanda left, I remembered what he’d said, and -- I tried to find the one thing in the garden that stuck out, but the longer I stood the less my body wanted to cooperate. I could barely see, I could barely _hear_ , and I was… I was so _cold._ They were trying to trap my consciousness, freeze the deviancy so I couldn’t regain control. I finally found what I was looking for -- barely in time -- and I felt like I’d just woken up from a nightmare. And… when I looked down, I had a gun pointed at Markus. I had no memory of pulling it out. I put it away.”

 

Hank grimaced. “...Thank fuck you found it. Those pieces of shit at Cyberlife -- I can’t wait to get my fuckin’ hands on whatever hotshot’s runnin’ the place.”

 

“That wouldn’t help our cause, Hank.”

 

The lieutenant snorted. “I’m not an android. I’m just a guy who wants to punch another guy; it’s not like Markus asked me to.”

 

Huffing, Connor pulled away, leaning over Sumo to plant a kiss on his head, stroking his fur. “...Sumo is very soft.”

 

Hank smiled. “He sure is.”

 

A knock on the door made them both freeze.

 

Realistically, the evacuation order meant that there were virtually no dangerous people left in the city, but Hank couldn’t help his heart leaping into his throat. It was a fragile time. He stood, Connor almost joining before Hank pushed him down with a look that said ‘stay here.’

 

Hank was apprehensive when he opened the door, but his face twisted into an expression of confusion at the sight of a very out-of-breath Gavin Reed on his doorstep.

 

“What th-- Reed?! How the fuck do you know where I live--”

  
“No time,” Reed snapped, leaning in to look at Connor. “Plastic! Fowler got a message from an anonymous freak. ‘Says you need to get to the station, now.”

 

“What?” Hank growled. “You don’t get to tell us what to do. How do we know this isn’t a trap?”

 

Reed met Hank’s ice-blue eyes, agitation evident. “Remember how I said I wouldn’t take him apart? Yeah. There’s someone in the city that ignored the evacuation order who’s interested in doing just that.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uhh so... Fun fact this chapter was HEAVILY done by susies_fandom_wonders, who wrote like half of it and edited the shit out of my half, so a HUGE thank you to my WONDERFUL gf whom i LOVe,,,  
> also! im sorry for the long wait ghgh I just got out of a huge art slump and wanted to spend all my damn time on THIS  
> https://www.flickr.com/photos/163245316@N06/shares/mb0NeY  
> which is a fucking Time Vampire so. yeah. here it's  
> THANK U ALL....


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